


It's A Cold & Broken Hallelujah

by NyxxTheWolf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, How Ryan Joined The Fakes, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not the typical stoic Vagabond, OT6, Original Female Character - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ryan Is Open About His Past, Song fic, The OC death is important to the story, There's Some Blood and Torture, Torture, original character death, ryan has ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxxTheWolf/pseuds/NyxxTheWolf
Summary: How did Los Santos' most infamous solitary mercenary end up joining the Fake AH Crew? It's a bit of a long story. It's the story of a man on top of the world, a mercenary running from his past, and a deal gone wrong that pulls the two together. It's a story about how a man with a broken heart gets picked up by a man with plenty of love to give and the little misfit family that they're all a part of.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	It's A Cold & Broken Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the Pentatonix version of "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen and the lyrics gave me an idea to write a story about how the great and powerful Vagabond came to join the Fake AH Crew. Specifically the lines that spoke to me the most are "She tied you to her kitchen chair/ She broke your throne/ And she cut your hair". And so this story is born. I know it's long as fuck but it took me weeks to write this and fill it out the way I wanted it done. It does get kind of OT6-ish towards the end, but it's all family-bonding type things and not sexy things. I hope you guys enjoy!

**_Well I've heard there was a secret chord_ **

**_That David played and it pleased the Lord_ **

**_But you don't really care for music, do you?_ **

Geoff Ramsey was on top of the world. He was the King of Los Santos and his crew, the Fake AH Crew, were his loyal knights. The whole city would bend to his will, everyone from civilians to the mayor were his pawns and he did what he wanted. He never went after those who were down, though. The homeless, the families, the ones who were just down on their luck; they were never touched. In fact, Geoff gave graciously to them. Buying enough meals to feed every homeless person in the city, buying a new home for the family that suffered a fire and lost everything a week before Christmas, he loved to give back to those that deserved it.

The ones who didn't deserve his compassion faced Geoff's Kingpin side. The Kingpin stole from the wealthy and the corrupt, he took without caring about who it came from and then distributed it the way he saw fit. Competing gangs were promptly squashed out and he had everything under control. Not even mercenaries escaped his wrath, the Fakes taking them out before they got too comfortable. Until the day the stories of the notorious Vagabond came across his desk. He smiled a bit as Michael and Jeremy went on and on about how the Vagabond was the deadliest shot around. His marks never saw him coming, and anybody who he was allowed to let survive could only describe him as tall, black hair and a black skull mask. Geoff wanted him on his crew, this mercenary could prove to be his secret weapon and if the stories were true, he would be more than happy to pay whatever fee the Vagabond asked. Now he just had to play the right song and hope that the Vagabond would play into his hands. Or so he hoped. This guy didn't seem to like rules too much and Geoff could only imagine what he'd be like in person.

**_Well it goes like this:_ **

**_The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift_ **

**_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_ **

Three weeks. Then two months. Four months; then five. Every time Geoff thought he was close to getting the Vagabond the masked man would slip back into the shadows. For every minor setback he'd have a major revelation and launch into his latest scheme to corner the Vagabond. But the man was a mystery. Jack and Gavin had been trying to track him through the city by every mean they had. Nothing on cameras, no credit card receipts, not even a parking ticket. Geoff was baffled. He had his ears on the pulse of the city and there hadn't been a peep about him aside from the fact that the entire city was scared shitless that he was going to kill them all. Geoff paced his office. The Vagabond was starting to become an invisible thorn in his side that needed to be dealt with. Then, one day, Gavin got a hit on a security camera from a seedy motel a few blocks away. This was his chance. 

**_Hallelujah_ **

Geoff checked the clip inside his pistol, slipping it into the holster hidden inside his suit jacket. He watched as his crew did the same, save for Gavin who would stay behind to keep an eye on cameras. He nodded as they moved towards their elevator, all of them tense with anticipation.

**_Hallelujah_ **

The motel clerk was very hesitant to tell Geoff which room had been given to the tall man with the black hair that Gavin had caught on the cameras, but after a few choice words from Michael he was more than happy to point the Fakes in the direction of room 113. Geoff approached the door slowly, gun already drawn. He knocked a few times to no response. Carefully he jimmied the door handle, somewhat surprised to find that the door opened with ease. He wasn't expecting what he saw.

**_Hallelujah_ **

The room was torn apart. Furniture flipped over, papers and clothing strewn about, blood splattered on the cheap carpeting and along the walls. The window had been shattered and there was blood on the shards. Something had gone wrong and now Geoff and his men were standing in the middle of a crime scene. He felt the color drain from his face. If there was someone in this city that was able to sneak up on the Vagabond, then he was royally fucked. 

**_Hallelujah_ **

Gavin's voice crackled in his ear. "He's in some warehouse by the docks. He's bleeding," came the British lad's voice.

"Car. Docks. Now," Geoff barked, feet already moving. He was not about to let some other guy get to the Vagabond first. Not in his city. Not tonight. Geoff was out for blood now. 

* * *

**_Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof_ **

**_You saw her bathing on the roof_ **

**_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya_ **

Ryan's head was throbbing as his eyes fluttered open. He knew right away that his face was exposed, his black skull mask taken from him when he was jumped. He made a mental note that when he got himself free he was going to slaughter every single person in this warehouse and then he was going back for that motel clerk. He groaned as he pulled on the ropes that were binding his wrists and he felt blood drip down his fingers. He closed his eyes again and tried to piece together what happened.

He was supposed to meet with Maria, a business woman, to discuss a contract to help her take over her company. She was tall for a woman, shorter than himself but close to his height in heels. She had long brown hair and brown eyes. Ryan had seen her face on billboards around the city, she was the vice president of some local pharmaceutical company. But she wanted more power, and she was going to pay him a lot of money to dispose of her superiors. They agreed to meet late at night at the seedy motel to avoid detection. Ryan had only brought a knife with him, intending on signing his contract and walking away. She tried to short him and he got angry, threatened to add her head to his body count. But he didn't suspect that she brought backup. Why wouldn't she? She was meeting with the Vagabond after all, and a little insurance goes a long way sometimes. He was wrong to judge her by her beauty and now he was paying for that mistake.

**_She tied you to her kitchen chair_ **

**_She broke your throne and she cut your hair_ **

**_And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah_ **

He opened his eyes again as he heard a door open and footsteps approach. The lights flickered above his head as the steps came closer. His head was suddenly jerked upwards as he was forced to look into the eyes of the woman who just tried to short him his fees and then had him kidnapped. She didn't speak to him, just chuckled to herself before slapping Ryan across the face and walking away. "I'll be back for you, my pretty little Vagabond," she said as she walked away, leaving Ryan to survey his surroundings. He could tell he was in a warehouse by the size of the room he was in. He was tied to some kind of cheap wooden chair, like the ones someone would have in their kitchen. His arms were tightly bound behind him and his ankles were cuffed to the floor. Across the room there were three guards all watching him. Ryan didn't miss the very large, silenced assault rifles they were all holding. Attempting to escape now would surely get him gunned down like a sitting duck.

Ryan sat for what felt like hours but was more likely only minutes before Maria re-entered the room, this time holding a knife. Ryan's knife. He recognized it because it had a curved blade with a custom carved handle. Great. He was going to be tortured and slaughtered with his own goddamn knife. She walked over to him, dragging the tip of the knife across his cheek before grabbing his hair and slicing it off. He winced as the blade nicked his scalp, his fists clenching in rage at the loss of his long hair. Maria laughed maniacally from behind him and Ryan heard a loud *SNAP ***.** He felt off-balance and saw that Maria had snapped off one of the chair legs, forcing him to use his own muscles to keep himself balanced. "Let's see how long you can keep yourself standing while I bleed you dry, you son of a bitch," she snarled, the blade of Ryan's knife cutting deep into his calf muscle. "I want to hear you beg for your life. Or your death. Your choice." She stabbed the blade into Ryan's forearm. Ryan bit back a sob, the pain radiating through his body as he watched his blood spill onto the floor. He made another mental note to kill her last, and to make it very slow and very painful.

"You know, it took a long time to grow that hair out. And these were my favorite jeans," he spat out, his eyes locking onto Maria. "You owe me a new pair of shoes too." He gasped as the knife dug deep into his left shoulder. 

"Fuck you, asshole," she growled, pressing the blade deeper. "Beg for me to kill you and I'll do it quickly. Beg for me you little bitch."

Ryan contemplated his limited options for a brief moment. He could feel himself starting to lose consciousness, the blood loss from his multiple stab wounds and cuts from the shattered glass at the motel was starting to make everything fuzzy. He was dying, he knew that much for sure. And it was either going to be quick or he was going to be left to bleed out. "Please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with tears that he didn't dare shed. "Please kill me."

Maria laughed again, a light sing-song-type laugh like someone had just told a funny story or a good joke. "Oh you sweet boy. I was never going to kill you. At least, not quickly. I'd rather watch you bleed out right here. My boss wants you to suffer. You killed his brother almost three years ago and he still holds a grudge. So he paid me to set up a meeting with you so that he could get his revenge. But he doesn't like to get his hands dirty and he gets off on watching me play with his enemies like this. You're my little toy to play with and I intend on making. You. Bleed." She accentuated her last few words with quick slices across Ryan's face before a series of loud bangs echoed outside. "I'm going to see what that was and when I get back, we're going to have some more fun." Ryan watched as she walked away, silently praying that it was the cops outside. He'd rather go to jail than be dead in this warehouse. He pulled at his restraints again, stopping as the motion made his gasp in pain. His vision started to dim as his body tried to pass out from the blood loss. But he wasn't about to die, not without knowing who, or what, had saved him from being sashimi'd by a psychopathic bitch.

**_Hallelujah_ **

The sound of gunshots echoed through the empty warehouse. Lots of gunshots. That much Ryan could tell for sure. There was a bloodbath going on outside and it was headed his way. He took a deep breath and prepared for his death.

**_Hallelujah_ **

Ryan jumped as an explosion tore through the wall in front of him, his legs screaming with the sudden shift of his body weight. His ears were ringing as he coughed away the dust that was swirling around him. He saw figures moving towards him and he closed his eyes and braced for the gunshot.

**_Hallelujah_ **

Ryan was shocked when he opened his eyes to find himself still alive. One of the men, a taller guy with ginger hair and a beard had sliced through the ropes binding his wrists while a shorter man with reddish-brown curly hair picked the lock on his ankle restraints. He stood in shock, unsure of what was happening to him as his head spun. He felt arms around his waist and he was held up by the two men. He was about to open his mouth and ask them what the fuck they were doing when he saw him. Geoff Ramsey, the great Kingpin, was standing in front of him. Ryan suddenly wished Maria had killed him when she had the chance.

**_Hallelujah_ **

Geoff looked at the broken and bleeding man before him and smiled. "You and I have much to discuss, Vagabond. But first, if you'll let me, I'd like to take you with me and get you fixed up. You'll find my medical staff to be quite efficient and something tells me you'd rather not go to the ER." Ryan nodded softly and allowed himself to be half carried, half dragged from the warehouse which was now on fire. He felt himself being loaded into a car and he couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Ryan," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Call me Ryan."

"Okay Ryan. Once you're not dying I want a word with you, in private," Geoff said. Ryan could tell that last part was more for his crew than for himself and he felt a twinge of nervousness. Ryan wasn't one to be afraid of anything but he knew what became of mercenaries that went into meetings with the Kingpin and his gang of Fakes. Or, he knew the rumors. No mercenary had ever gone up against the Fakes and come back alive. Rumors of headless bodies tossed in the river or of bodies so mangled by "car crashes" that they were unidentifiable. Mercenaries feared the Fake AH Crew like nothing else in the city, and Ryan was sure that with his list of past targets, he was the next name on Geoff's own list. He closed his eyes as the car started and prayed to every god that has ever existed to let him live through this.

* * *

**_Well maybe I've been here before_ **

It had been almost a month that he had been in Geoff's private medical suite healing up after his kidnapping. Geoff had made very sure that he was taken care of and treated. Ryan couldn't help but remember the look on the doctors' face when they got to the medical suite and he realized he would be treating the Vagabond. Ryan doesn't really remember much of the following conversation but he does remember hearing Geoff mention an ungodly amount of money for the doctor to remain quiet about who he was caring for before he fully lost consciousness.

He came to a few days later to find Geoff sitting in his room, watching him closely. He tried to move but found his good arm handcuffed to the hospital bed. "Don't trust me Kingpin?" Ryan asked smugly. 

"Absolutely not. Although after seeing what that chick did to you you probably couldn't kill a spider. If I un-cuff you will you promise not to strangle me?" Geoff said, holding up the small silver key.

"I owe you a debt, Kingpin. You have my solemn oath that I shall not lay a finger on you," Ryan responded, his voice low and even. "You saved my life. I'm a hired gun but even I have morals."

Geoff seemed to contemplate Ryan's words before he stood, carefully unlocking the handcuffs. "I'll have to cuff you up again before I leave. My doctor is a great guy and he keeps my secrets well, but he doesn't feel quite safe treating you without some kind of restraint. Oh, and call me Geoff. Only the people who fear me call me Kingpin. And you don't have to fear me."

Ryan carefully flexed his wrist. "Thank you, Geoff. Can I ask why you saved me? Or how you even knew where I was?"

Geoff chuckled softly. "I've been watching you, Ryan. Well, I was trying to watch you. You're very good at blending in without that creepy skull mask, it took my tech guy months to find you. He saw you go into that motel. We followed you, came across the hell-scape that was your motel room and my tech guy saw their car heading for the warehouses by the docks. We followed them there and once we were able to pinpoint where they were we started firing and got you out."

"But why? I'm just a mercenary, you don't exactly have a great track record with hired guns. Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful that you didn't just put a bullet in my brain back in that warehouse but part of me isn't entirely convinced that you're not going to dismember me and scatter my body across the city," Ryan said bluntly.

"I got you out of there because I wanted to talk to you. But now is not the time for that discussion. When the doctor clears you, I'll have Michael and Jeremy escort you to my office. Then we'll talk. For now, is there anything that I can have my men get for you?"

"Um, this may be weird but I'd really like my jacket back from my last safe house. I'll write the address down for you, as well as the passcode for the door and the alarm system. It's nothing fancy but that's my favorite jacket. It's just inside the doorway," Ryan said as he scribbled everything on a napkin. "Just have your guys lock the door on the way out."

Geoff took the paper before cuffing Ryan's wrist back to the bed. "Will do. Now you rest. My guys will bring you your jacket and when you've healed up they'll bring you to me. I look forward to chatting with you again, Ryan." He walked out before Ryan could say another word.

**_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_ **

Ryan had been cleared by the doctor and was waiting for his escort to Geoff's office. He ran his fingers through his hair that had started to grow out again and pulled his leather jacket tighter around his chest, ignoring the still-dull ache in his shoulder. If you asked him what he was feeling, he would have told you he was nervous about what Geoff wanted with him. He would never admit that he was scared of meeting with Geoff in private, that he was scared that he was about to be escorted to his own execution. There was a short knock on the door before two men entered. Ryan recognized the shorter man as one of the men who had been in the room when he had been rescued. The other man was a mystery to Ryan, but he wore a brown leather jacket and had a scowl on his face. 

"You guys must be Michael and Jeremy," Ryan said, extending his hand to them. "I'm Ryan." The other two looked at him warily, the shorter one reaching out and taking his hand tentatively.

"I'm Jeremy. Mr. Happy over here is Michael. We're your escorts. If you make any attempts to escape, harm, or kill us, Geoff will know." He tapped the ear piece that was just barely visible in his ear. "He kept you alive for a reason, don't piss him off now."

Ryan nodded. "I swore an oath to Geoff. He saved my life, I owe him a blood debt. Your crew is safe from me as long as I owe your boss my life. You have my word." He placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head , keeping his eyes locked on Jeremy. He didn't miss how Jeremy shivered a bit with his words. "Now, take me to your boss."

Jeremy led the way as Michael followed behind Ryan, making sure the mercenary didn't have any chance to escape. As they walked through the hallways, Ryan kept getting flashbacks of when they first brought him here. The dark mahogany wood of the walls that he painted with his blood as he was half carried, half dragged to the medical suite had been scrubbed clean, evidence of his near-death experience long flushed down a drain. The light pine floors that were spinning the first time he saw them were just as shiny and pristine as if they were brand new, the mud and grime of his rescue polished away. He was slightly shocked when they turned a corner and entered a massive living area.

He immediately noticed there was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and he realized that they were in a huge penthouse suite and not some mansion out in the country. The room was filled with huge couches and a theatre-sized flat screen tv. On the opposite side there was a massive kitchen and dining area where two other men stood. Ryan recognized the one with the long beard as his other rescuer and the other must have been Geoff's tech guy. He smiled at them as he was paraded past them, the smaller of the two hiding behind the other. Ryan chuckled to himself. He'd been here for over a month and Geoff's men were still afraid of him. However, Ryan had been handcuffed and locked in a room that whole time so it's not like he posed a threat to them. But he knew what the general population thought of him so he wasn't all that surprised. He was surprised when he bumped into Jeremy, not realizing they had stopped. In front of him loomed a large dark door, a "KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING" sign plastered to the front. 

"Knock three times, wait for him to invite you in, then open the door," Michael said gruffly. He gently prodded Ryan forward with the butt of his gun before stepping back. Ryan took a shaky breath before knocking three times on the door. 

"Come in, Ryan," came Geoff's muffled voice from beyond the door. Ryan looked at Michael and Jeremy who urged him forward. He opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Geoff sat at his desk, papers strewn about that Ryan could already tell were news articles, LSPD case files and FIB profiles of himself. He swallowed and sat down opposite Geoff. "I know you're wondering why I've asked you here."

"It had crossed my mind, yes. I figured you probably want me dead," Ryan replied, his eyes focusing on the wall beyond Geoff.

"If I wanted you dead I would have left you to die in that warehouse. I want to know why you came to Los Santos. I want your story."

"My...story?" Ryan asked softly. He could feel the memories bubbling up and he tried to push them back down.

"I mean, I already have an idea," he gestured to the papers on his desk. "It's amazingly easy to dig up information when you have a name. But I want to hear it from you."

Ryan took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he collected his thoughts. "Okay," he said after a moment. "But it's not pretty. I used to have a family. Actually I had a girlfriend and a dog and a nice little house in the suburbs far away from here outside of Liberty City. But things went wrong. Very, very wrong."

**_I used to live alone before I knew ya_ **

_***** _ **8 Years Ago** _***** _

_Ryan and Jess were happy. They rented a cute little two bedroom in the suburbs, complete with the stereotypical white picket fence and well-kept lawn. They had a golden retriever named Dynamite and no kids. Ryan worked for a tech company doing IT and Jess was a bank teller at a major bank in Liberty City. They were just two average people in their early thirties with steady jobs, a nice home, and plans to spend the rest of their lives together._

_Ryan was at work one day when the TV that was playing in his office suddenly blared loudly with the words "BREAKING NEWS" flashing on the screen. He looked up and his heart sank. Images of the bank where Jess worked flashed on the screen as the building was surrounded by police. The words "robbery", "hostages", and "shots fired from inside" rang over and over in his head as he grabbed his keys and rushed downtown. He reached the scene and could only watch as police and medical technicians carried out the bodies of those shot. Dozens of people, their bodies bloodied and ripped apart by bullets. Ryan was frozen in fear as he watched the bodies pile up, hoping that Jess wasn't one of them. His worst fears were realized when she was carried out, a bullet hole straight through the front of her forehead._

_Ryan doesn't remember much after he saw Jess' body. He doesn't remember the funeral, or her burial. He was numb to every emotion except for pure, unadulterated rage. He knew he needed revenge on the sick bastard who killed his girlfriend, and he was going to get it. But first he knew he had to get rid of his old life._

_He gave away his beloved Dynamite to a friend and bought his way out of his lease. He sold his belongings and then went out and bought a hand gun. He learned how to shoot, how to fight in close-combat, and he learned how to kill. He bought the skull mask off of the internet, finding someone who made custom Halloween masks. He used an alias and a throwaway bank account to purchase it so it couldn't be traced to him. He spent almost three years honing his skills and hunting down Jess' killer. Sure he had been caught and spent his fair share of time in prison but that only made him stronger. After three years of waiting, learning, and tracking, the killer slipped up and got his face captured on a traffic camera. Ryan tracked him back to his apartment, staking it out and waiting until he was sure the other man was asleep. He broke into the apartment and emptied his 15-round magazine into the other mans' head._

_He fled and spent the next three years bouncing around the country, committing petty theft to stay alive and living out of his beat-up car. After three years of pick-pocketing tourists and robbing convenience stores he made his way to Los Santos. He had heard that the city was riddled with criminals and that if you had marketable skills as a mercenary there was great money to be made. It seemed like a great idea, so Ryan made his way to the City of Criminals to start over._

**_*_ Present***

"I've been here for two years. I worked my way up from being a pick-pocket to the mercenary I am now. They call me the Vagabond because unlike most mercs at my level, I'm not affiliated with a crew. I don't have anybody else to fall back on, it's just me. I taught myself everything I know and the other mercs know that I will not hesitate to take them out if they get in my way. I never really planned on becoming the Vagabond but now I can't imagine having a "domestic" life again." Ryan said. He didn't even notice that he had been crying, his hand coming up to wipe his face. 

Geoff simply nodded and kept his eyes locked on Ryan. "I can't imagine going though that. The thought of losing any of my guys like that scares me every time one of them gets into a firefight. It's not easy to let go. But I get it. And I get why you stopped using your real name too." He could see Ryan stiffen in his. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. The real reason I asked to talk to you is because I want to offer you a place here, with me and the Fakes. You name your price and I'll pay it. I need someone like you. I have a technical genius, a getaway driver, an explosives expert, and I have a watch dog. I don't have a stealthy operator. I could use your skills, Ryan."

Ryan chewed his lip for a minute. "I...what would be required of me besides stealth and killing people?"

"You'd have to be available for heists, which includes all planning meetings, the actual heist, and the debrief after. I'd either have you sniping, staking out, or handling hostages. You're a scary motherfucker and in a room full of hostages, you'd probably be best at keeping everyone quiet and stuck in place. We don't hurt civilians. Cops, yes, but we have never and will never harm a hostage intentionally. We've had hostages before who decide to play hero and run outside only to be shot by the police or the one hostage who decided to try and follow us and got too close to an explosive charge and lost an arm. You'd basically be on "murder the cops and make sure all the civilians get out alive" half of the team. You'd get a cut of our earnings, as well as a yearly salary that comes from my non-heist business ventures. You would have a private suite here in the Penthouse as well as a private apartment in another building. I don't force anybody to live here with Jack and I but the others tend to live here more than at their private places. We're much like a family. I take care of my boys like they're my own sons and Jack takes care of me. We all watch each others' backs. Just name your price," Geoff responded, clearing a space on his desk and pulling out a checkbook.

Ryan watched Geoff carefully, his mind digesting what was being offered. A place to live. A regular paycheck. _Stability_. All the things Ryan's life had been lacking for eight long years. He'd finally be able to breathe and not be worried about someone breaking into his apartment and killing him. He could relax again, he could go back to being _Ryan_ again. He took a deep breath. "A million dollars now to close out my leases and buy a new car. Then two and half million yearly to keep me. I was making nearly that being a freelance killer so you'll have to match it." He extended his hand out to Geoff. "I have a lot of loose ends to tie up before I can join you. Contracts to close out, leases to finish, those things. It may be a bit before you see me again."

Geoff smiled, signing the check and handing it to Ryan along with a cell phone. "Go do what you need to do. When you're ready to join us, call me from that phone. Everything will be ready when you are. Welcome to the Fake AH Crew, Ryan." 

Ryan smiled and shook Geoff's hand before leaving, noticing that the penthouse was eerily silent as he left. As he rode the elevator down, he couldn't help but smile thinking about his new future.

**_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_ **

It took another three months for Ryan to finish closing up his business before going back to Geoff. He still had quite a few contracts that were worth a large amount of money that needed to be finished up and he was not about to let some other mercenary pick up his contracts. As he worked to finish clearing his list, he couldn't help but notice the symbol of the Fakes showing up more often around him. The fluorescent green duck made him smile behind his skull mask. Before the idea that the Fakes were following him would have pissed him off and made him want to hunt them down, but now it just reminded him that they were watching and waiting for him to join their ranks. It was their own little flag, their calling card to him that served double purpose because it threw the cops off his trail. They would go looking for the Vagabond and find the symbol of the Fakes and it just confused them, which Ryan found downright hilarious.

It was a cold day in January when Ryan finished his last contract kill. He had received his payment earlier that day and was packing the last of his few belongings into a backpack. It wasn't much, just his hair brush, tooth brush and few other odds and ends from his apartment. He had already sold all his furniture, and Geoff had already sent Michael and the blond haired man he had learned was Gavin around the day before to collect his clothing. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, running a hand through his hair. It had grown back to shoulder length but he hadn't had a chance to dye it back to black. His naturally blond hair was a stark contrast to the black skull mask he held in his hand and he chuckled, tossing the mask into the bag. He heaved the bag over his shoulder, taking one last walk through of his apartment before leaving, closing the door and walking out into his new life with the Fakes.

_**And love is not a victory march** _

_**It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah** _

Ryan had been living in his own apartment a few blocks away from the Penthouse for a few months before he really joined up with the Fakes. They had welcomed him in with open arms and he could practically feel the love that they all had for each other in the air. They were all so close with each other and after what happened with Jess, it freaked him out a bit. He had left the penthouse quite quickly after his welcoming celebration. His phone buzzed and he saw a text from Geoff. He read it over and over and over again, never actually replying to him until it had been nearly a month without contact.

_'Come back when you're ready. I know it'll take time for you to heal and open up. Take your time, and when you're ready to come back, we'll be here. You're part of the family now, and we all care about you, but we won't force you to be uncomfortable. Being here with us isn't forgetting her, having a family again is a victory over the asshole that took her away from you. Let me know when you're ready.'_

Ryan finally opened up the text to respond. ' _I'm ready to come back. You're right. Having another family, even a criminal one, is a victory over that fucker. I'm ready to move on.'_

_'Glad to hear it Ryan. We'll be waiting for you.'_

Ryan smiled as he read the text, pulling his freshly-dyed black hair up into a pony tail and slipping on a hoodie. He left the hood up as he left his apartment to keep himself concealed. He didn't look that out of place as it was pretty cold for Los Santos and most people out on the street were bundled up in heavy coats and hats. He walked the familiar streets until he reached the complex where Geoff had his penthouse and he walked around to the back side of the building. Geoff had installed a private entrance with a private elevator. Ryan can only imagine how that conversation with the building owner went, but with Geoff's money I'm sure all it took was a sizable check to get his elevator. Ryan dug in his pocket for the key Geoff had given him to access the private elevator. He inserted the key and turned, the door to the elevator sliding open. He removed his key and stepped inside, pressing the only button present. 

Ryan fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie as the elevator rose to the Penthouse. In his mind, he was making the right choice. Moving on from what had happened and finding comfort in others was the greatest victory over that asshole that he could win. But the price he paid to get to this point of his life had broken him down. He left behind a good job and a stable life because of what happened and this was the best way to honor Jess' memory. ' _Well, probably not the best way,'_ he thought to himself. A soft dinging sound pulled Ryan from his thoughts as the door slid open. Ryan was greeted by the five members of his crew all smiling at him from their giant couch. Ryan noticed how they were all very close to each other. Jack has his arm around Geoff's shoulders as they both held beers, Gavin was laying with his leg draped over Michael's thigh and Michael and Jeremy were both shoving each other back and forth as they played Mario Kart on the massive TV. Ryan couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight, causing everyone to look at him like he had three heads.

"What are you laughing at, Ryan?" Gavin quipped, his head popping up from the couch. 

"Sorry, it's just...you guys are the most feared criminals in the entire city and this scene is just so.... _domestic_. Playing video games while drinking beer isn't exactly what I would have imagined the great and powerful Fakes to do on a Saturday afternoon," he replied, smiling.

Geoff laughed, standing up from the couch. "Hey, even criminals need a day off. Go put your shit away and come join us." Geoff pointed down one of the hallways. "Your room is the last one on the left. I didn't know what your preferences are for decorating so there's just a queen bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and a nightstand in there right now, as well as the bags of your clothes and the boxes of other belongings that the guys picked up from your apartment. We didn't unpack anything or go through anything."

"Thank you." Ryan replied. "I may just unpack a few things quick so I'm not digging around for them later," he said before heading down the long hallway. He found his room and pushed the door open, taking a look around. All of the furniture was stained black and it was very sleek. There was a huge window on one wall that faced out towards the coast and in the distance Ryan could see the lights of the pier. The other wall showed off a large tv and built-in entertainment center. He tossed his bag onto the bed before toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the side. He sat on his bed, the soft memory foam sinking with his weight. He began to slowly unpack the box of things in front of him. Most of it was books but buried in the bottom was all of his weapons. He had made sure to keep them all unloaded but he wanted to get them reassembled and stored away before he'd really feel comfortable.

As he dug through the box his hand brushed against a rough snake-skin texture and he pulled out a photo album from years ago. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the cover and he could feel the tears in his eyes. He had forgotten about the album, having shoved it to the back of his bookcase when he got to Los Santos. He had made it for Jess for her birthday. He didn't dare open it, knowing that just beyond all the pages of memories was the engagement ring he had bought and taped to the last page. He opened his eyes and ran his finger over the picture embedded in the front cover, tears falling as he looked at Jess' face smiling up at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll never forget you." Ryan jumped when there was a knock on his door. He quickly wiped his face. "C..come in."

Jeremy stepped in, looking sheepish. "Hey. Just, uh, wanted to make sure you were settling in okay," he muttered. He smiled at Ryan before noticing the photo album. "Who's the girl?"

Ryan shoved the photo album back in the box. "No one! She..it doesn't matter who she is," Ryan said. He saw the way Jeremy jumped back a bit at his tone, forgetting that to these guys he was still the Vagabond. "Sorry, Jeremy. She...she was my girlfriend. I made her this for her birthday. I was gonna use it to propose." Ryan fought back the tears. "She died."

Jeremy made a motion like he was going to step further into the room but instead stayed in the doorway. "I'm sorry man. Before or after?"

Ryan looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Before or after you became the Vagabond."

Ryan chewed his lip. "Before. Way before. I'll tell you about her later after I dig out my gun. I want everyone to know my story, I'm tired of hiding."

"Literally or figuratively? Because literally would be an easy way to get caught," Jeremy said with a chuckle. Ryan broke out in a grin, taking his black skull mask and throwing it a Jeremy. "You tell me!"

Jeremy looked down at the mask and yelped, dropping it on the floor. "Gah!! That is so creepy Ryan, Jesus. Do you just carry that thing around with you?"

Ryan laughed at Jeremy's reaction. "No, it's usually mounted to a fake head meant for wigs when I'm not wearing it. Helps it hold its' shape better and keeps the mask from getting torn. The foam head also absorbs the excess face paint I wear on heists." He watched Jeremy's face for a reaction.

"You are officially the creepiest killer I have ever met. If you're good I'm gonna head back to the guys before they think you ate me or whatever. Come out when you're ready." He tossed the mask back at Ryan and shut the door behind him, leaving Ryan alone again. 

Ryan looked back at the photo album before placing it on his bookshelf. He sighed softly before moving back to unpack a few more things. When he had unpacked a few of his essentials and made sure his gun was loaded and stored in his nightstand, he changed into soft pajama pants and a plain black tee shirt before heading out into the living room. He could feel the eyes on him as he walked in, grabbing himself a bottle of water from the fridge before sitting on the farthest side of the couch. 

"All settled in?" Geoff asked, his eyes scanning Ryan's face.

"Yeah. And I want to be open with all of you about my past. I don't want there to be any secrets or surprises going forward when it comes to who I am, and my past is a pretty big reason I am who I am," Ryan said, his body stiff as his eyes scanned over everyone. "I think it's important for you guys to understand where I'm coming from, especially since we'll be working with each other. I want you to know that you can trust me and that I will always have your backs. And that trust can't exist unless you know everything. It started with a girl..."

_**Hallelujah** _

Ryan told his story to the Fakes, keeping his eyes locked on the floor to keep them from seeing his tears as he rambled on about Jess, her death, his journey into crime, being homeless, coming to Los Santos, and earning his title of the Vagabond. He laid everything out, ignoring the tears that ran hot down his cheeks. It was oddly therapeutic to open up about his past, especially to the Fakes. Before Geoff he had never told anyone about his past, and to have everything out in the open made him feel like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He took a long, shaky breath before finally lifting his eyes. He barely opened his mouth before Jack was crushing him in a bear hug. He could feel the other mans' tears against his face as he relaxed into the touch. He was never one for intimacy, but in the moment, the feeling of Jack's arms around him was the greatest feeling ever. In moments, he felt more pressure as the others joined in the dog pile. There, buried under his new crew with his face pancaked agains Jack's chest, he knew he would be safe.

_**Hallelujah** _

Ryan spent most of his first month in the Penthouse in his room. It was mostly for peace and quiet as the main room was usually filled with Gavin, Michael, and Jeremy, or the Lads as they called themselves, either yelling at video games or making stupid bets with each other. Just the other day he had walked in on Gavin shoving sour balls in Jeremy's mouth just to see how many he could fit. He had just grabbed another Diet Coke from the fridge and went back to his room, wanting absolutely nothing to do with whatever shenanigans they were partaking in. It wasn't until one day when Ryan was sitting on his floor sharpening his new favorite knife that he heard giggling outside of his door that he knew that he was going to have no choice but to indulge them. He smiled as he looked up at his skull mask, quickly sliding it on as he continued to sharpen the blade, turning so he was facing the doorway. He uttered a muffled "Come in," before watching the door open and hearing Gavin scream and run down the hallway, yelling about "bloody axe murderer Ryan over there being terrifying". When Geoff came to check Ryan was in tears laughing on the floor, skull mask back on its mount. As Geoff walked away he smiled, knowing Ryan was going to be just fine in his own time.

**_Hallelujah_ **

It wasn't until after Ryan's first small heist with the Fakes that he knew he had found a new family. It was a small robbery, stealing weapons from a rival crew at the docks. So small that it was just Ryan, Jeremy, and Geoff. They had been staking out for hours when the shipment arrived and as soon it had landed on solid ground, they moved in, Ryan kneeling to pick the lock on one of the boxes while Geoff moved to pick the other. The other crew was vastly outnumbered as they only had one man to move their shipment, but the man was quick and soon had Ryan at gunpoint. The fact that he went for Ryan showed that this man was clearly disposable as nobody who faced the Vagabond down and lived. Before Ryan could even make a threat the man collapsed over Ryan's shoulder, a large bullet hole straight through the back of his skull. Jeremy extended his hand out to Ryan as he holstered his still-smoking gun. Ryan took his hand, grabbed his box and they ran back to the car. As they drove off, Ryan smiled under his mask. Jeremy saved his life on that dock, and Ryan felt the love spread through his body like hot lava. He was loved and cared about, and he was never going to let anybody hurt his crew.

**_Hallelujah_ **

Six months in and Ryan hadn't forgotten about how Jeremy saved him that night. He had been trying to figure out how to properly thank the shorter man for months until he overheard Jeremy mention that he had been trying to get the newest model of the Zentorno but the dealer refused to sell to him because he "didn't look like he could afford it". So Ryan snuck out of the penthouse early one night and headed out in his own Zentorno. He had made sure to dress up and made sure he had plenty of cash in his wallet as well as his totally-legal and absolutely-not-criminally-funded credit card before leaving. He drove to the Pegasus dealership and walked in, heading for the first salesperson he saw. It took a lot of talking and convincing and maybe just a very minor threat but after an hour Ryan was walking out with the keys to the newest Zentorno. He had told them to deliver it to Jeremy's personal apartment building a few blocks from the Penthouse, and when he returned he smiled to see Jeremy lounging on the couch, face buried in his phone. He tossed the keys in Jeremy's direction, the shiny black key fob landing on his chest. "It'll be waiting at your apartment in an hour. Thanks for not letting me get shot in the head," Ryan said with a smile. He smiled harder as he watched Jeremy pick up the keys, look them over and then try to stumble out a thanks. "No thanking me, this is a gift. Now go pick it up. And please don't paint it purple and orange. If you do, I'm going to drive it off Chilliad." Jeremy shot him an evil look before shouting "No promises Rye-Bread!" as he bolted for the elevator. Ryan scoffed at the nickname before taking over the couch for himself and turning on some true crime documentary.

* * *

_**  
Maybe there's a God above  
** _  
**But all I've ever learned from love**  
  
**Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya**

Ryan had been with the Fakes for over a year and he had fallen into a routine with them, both working and not working. Off-duty he would just lounge around the penthouse and watch the Lads engage in their antics or help Jack cook for everyone. It was peacefully domestic. They had truly become his family and he loved them like they were his own blood brothers. And anytime there was the potential that someone would be hurt, he was always there for them. Whether it was shooting or, occasionally, stabbing some low-grade gang thug trying to mug Gavin or just being a shoulder to cry on for any reason, he made sure that he was there for his crew. He was always ready to shoot anybody who threatened his crew, low-life thugs already killed one person he loved, Ryan would not let them take another. He was always just a little bit on edge whenever he left the penthouse with another one of the guys, eyes always scanning for threats. He was the watchdog of their little crew, and no matter who or what they were up against, Ryan would always be ready to take the first shot. 

_**And it's not a cry that you hear at night** _

_**It's not somebody who's seen the light** _

_**It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah** _

_**Hallelujah** _

When it was time for the Fakes to pull off a heist, Ryan became the infamous Vagabond. He wouldn't talk to the others for hours before a heist started, getting himself into the mindset of the Vagabond. He would barely speak during a heist unless it was in response to a direct question or order, or to keep hostages from doing something stupid. Luckily most hostages would see that they were staring down the barrel of the Vagabond's gun and be very compliant with orders. He was always the first one to open fire on the LSPD and the last one to escape. He would always make it home last, the others celebrating as he would bypass them and go to his room, locking the door.

The others had learned that after a large job that ended in a huge fire-fight or one that had a lot of hostages Ryan needed to decompress before he could celebrate. He'd go to his room and take off his skull mask before climbing into the shower. He'd sit in there until the hot water had washed all the face paint, blood, sweat and gun residue from his body. Then he'd get out, get dressed and carefully clean his mask and his guns before putting them back in their places before joining in on the celebration. Nobody ever questioned him about it, they just let him do what he needed to do. Ryan was grateful that they gave him his space after a large heist.

Maintaining the Vagabond persona was emotionally taxing on him, and some of the heists were more taxing than others, especially if hostages wouldn't cooperate. Those heists were the ones that gave him the flashbacks and the panic attacks that would keep him awake at night. He usually spent the next two or three nights after a heist sitting in the center of his bed, knees pulled tight to his chest and eyes screwed shut as he fought to keep the memories out until exhaustion made him sleep. 

The nights after a heist goes wrong are the worst for him. When a hostage gets hurt, or one of his crew members gets shot, those are the nights where Ryan can't even sit in his room, the empty eyes of his mask watching him making him squirm. Those are the nights where Ryan would slip out of the penthouse and just wander the streets, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes glued to the sidewalk. He would never have a plan, he'd just wander until his legs gave up on him, usually after he had wandered a few miles. The cold night air and the silence of the city helped to clear his head, and he'd usually stay out all day and sneak back into the apartment late the next night, after he could be sure the others were asleep. One night he came home to see Geoff sitting on the couch, a drink in his hand staring out the window. He tried to silently head to his room, but a couch from Geoff let him know he'd been caught.

"Sit," Geoff said, turning to face Ryan. His face was tired-looking, the dark circles under his eyes proof that he'd had about as much sleep as Ryan. "How long?"

Ryan sat next to him. "What?"

"How long have you had PTSD?"

"I, uh...I dunno. It started after Jess and it's only gotten worse. It's only bad after a heist goes wrong. When one of you guys gets hurt, or a hostage gets hurt...those are the worst nights. But I'm okay. I go out and I walk and clear my head. What about you? You look like you haven't slept in weeks," Ryan said.

"Years for me. I'm at the point where it only affects me once in a while. You can always talk to me if you need to, Ryan. This life, what we do....it's normal to have nightmares about the shit we see. But panic attacks aren't normal. At least not for most. You and I, we've seen the worst of the worst. Jack was there for me during the panic attacks and nightmares, having him to talk to helped. I just want you to know that I'm here to talk if you need me," Geoff responded, his eyes soft as he looked at Ryan.

"Thanks, Geoff. But for now I'd like to get some sleep."

Geoff nodded and watched silently as Ryan trod off to bed. Ryan locked his door behind him before collapsing into his bed. He'd deal with emotions later, he told himself as sleep overtook him. 

_**Hallelujah** _

As the months passed, Ryan grew almost as close to the others in the crew as he had once been with Jess. There were no secrets between them and he had become especially close to Jeremy, often spending many nights lounging on the couch together playing video games. The two of them had become a team, working together to pull pranks on the others as well as working together on jobs. Ryan had quickly grown to love the domesticity of it all, and he smiled as his game character took another shot at Jeremy's. The younger man blubbered something incomprehensible as Ryan just laughed. 

_**Hallelujah** _

At some point in the three years Ryan had been with the Fakes, they had grown exponentially to include a whole second behind-the-scenes team. Ryan was wary of them at first, all of them scrawny and not very experienced with fighting. Fiona and Matt were hired as technicians, Steffie and Lindsay were great at undercover work, Trevor was an expert mechanic, and Alfredo was a sniper, not to mention they were all pretty young. They were chaotic together, but their chaos often worked in their favor. Geoff has reassured them all, but Ryan especially, that the Support Squad was going to be working primarily behind the scenes unless their particular field skills were needed. It had taken a few successful large hits for Ryan to trust them and he soon found himself spending a lot of time hanging out with them when they came to the penthouse. They were all like children, the way they'd play fight until someone, usually Gavin, cried about someone hitting him too hard. Watching them interact was one of Ryan's favorite past times. 

_**Hallelujah** _

Five years in and Ryan was, for the first time since Jess had died, genuinely happy. He sat on the couch of the Penthouse after a massive jewel and weapons heist had gone almost perfect. The only hiccup was that cops had show up early, but Ryan saw them coming from where he was hiding on a nearby roof with Jeremy and they were able to snipe them before they even reached the casino they were robbing. Everyone was cheering and celebrating, bottles of champagne being popped open. Ryan had discarded his mask along with his jacket in his room, scrubbing off the little face paint that had survived the heist. He watched as everyone celebrated around him and he felt his eyes fill with tears as he soaked everything in.

"Everything okay, Ry?" Jeremy asked, flopping onto the couch and practically falling onto Ryan.

"Yeah, Jer. Everything's great," Ryan said. "Just happy is all." 

Jeremy grinned from ear to ear, raising his glass of champagne high in the air. "I propose a toast!" Everyone turned to face Jeremy, the ruckus dying down. "A toast to Ryan Haywood, the creepiest killer in all of Los Santos, without whom we would've been fucked earlier. It was Ryan who saw the cops and started sniping them before they had a chance to get close. Without him, we would've been in the shit. To Ryan!"

The others around him all raised their glasses. "To Ryan!" they echoed, all chugging down their drinks before resuming their celebratory antics. Ryan sat back against the couch, smiling as he looked around at his friends. He felt full. Not from food, but from love. As he looked around the room, he realized that everyone around him would be just as willing to take a bullet for him as he was to take one for any of them, and he knew, deep down, that he loved them. He finally belonged somewhere, he had people who loved him and wanted him to be happy. Ryan sighed contentedly as he sank into the couch pillows, the feeling of _belonging_ a happy weight in heart. He was pulled from his bliss by something heavy and plastic thudding into his chest. He looked down and saw the game controller resting in his lap, Jeremy, Michael, and Gavin holding the other three.

"Bet you can't kill all of us before we kill you!" Michael taunted as Gavin turned on their Xbox. 

"Oh you are on!" Ryan shouted with a laugh, turning towards the TV. As he turned, he could have sworn he saw Geoff shake his head. And as the consoles booted up, Ryan smiled the biggest smile he had smiled in years. He was finally home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck. If you've read through this all the way through, I commend you. This is the second longest fic I've written, and it's only 1500 words shorter than my 10-chapter fic. I hope that you enjoyed this, this took me 3 weeks to write out and edit because I kept changing things. Please feel free to leave me comments about it, good or bad. I've been away from writing for quite a while and the two Christmas fics I posted before this were my first stories in over 2 years so I'm a bit rusty. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read through my story, and I hope you liked it. <3


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